What if
by Snowluvr410
Summary: I was just watching Miracle for the millionth time and decided I need to come out of being a hermit and write something. Inspiration does that I guess. Read, enjoy, review! Simple as that. M for safety. Various Genres as they are one-shots.
1. Rizzo had been cut and Timmy stayed?

AN: A series of 'what if' questions that are totally random and I'll write them as they come to me. Another thing, a lot of the stories are probably gonna be slash because my mind automatically sees slash whenever I watch anything. I know, effed up right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Peace

Disclaimer: I own nothing, which is sad because Nathan West and Patrick O'Brian Demsey are awesome!

Summary: What if….

Rizzo had been cut and Timmy stayed?

Told from OC's POV

I was reasonably sure that I might cry, or rip Herb's head off. Either one had undesirable consequences but I was never one to care about rules or consequences. Luckily for me and Herb obviously, the sadness overcame the anger. It all seemed so unfair, how could Herb cut Rizzo? And keep Timmy Harrer of all people? I knew it was stupid to hate someone I didn't know, but I did because he was the reason Rizzo was going home. Rizzo, my best friend, the biggest worry-wart in the world, and the heart of this team was going home because he just couldn't seem to score, even though he practiced harder than everyone on the team because that was just who he was.

I can't remember ever crying over anything in my entire life, not even when I broke my foot or when my grandfather died, but I was now. I was sitting in the utility closet outside the locker room because Rizzo had just been called to Herb's office and we all knew what that meant. He was getting cut right now as I blubber on and on. I wonder how the other guys are taking it because Rizzo was like our substitute mother. He fed us, worried about all of us, was usually the one to comfort one of us when we were in pain, and he was the mediator. Everyone respected him and loved him as much as one can when they've only known each other for a few months. Sure he wasn't the best hockey player of us all, but I was sure no one wanted to go to the Olympics without him. He saved our asses in Norway and still had enough energy to mother us all to death after that torturous session.

As long as I can remember, I have always wanted to win a championship game, but now I don't think I have the heart simply because it won't be the same playing without Rizzo. I feel like a big wussy girl because I'm crying in a closet while still wearing my gear. I must look so gay, but I don't think I would care if someone saw me right now. I'm pretty sure this is what losing faith in the world feels like, heartbreak. Wow, I even sound gay. Rizzo would probably comfort me if he was here right now and he should be the one needing comfort. I feel like a jerk now. He is probably heart broken right now and still holding his head up high because that is just how Rizzo is. He is probably in the locker room right now giving the other guys a pep talk to brighten their spirits. God, I'm a asshole.

I wiped my tears away and went to open the door, only to be greeted with Mac's visage. He looked like he was about to break down crying. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly and he too was still in his gear.

"…hey." Jeeze, he sounded like somebody broke his heart. For all I know, someone might have. He and Rizzo were friends from the beginning because Rizzo was incapable of holding a grudge against anybody and no one could resist being Rizzo's friend, try as they might, it was impossible, he was just too great of a guy. I felt even worse. Here I am crying my eyes out in the closet, thinking I would be the only one devastated, and I'm not.

"Can I get my turn in the closet? I really don't feel like crying out here where anyone can see me." Mac asked, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. He looked pathetic and I realized that I probably did, too.

"Yeah, sure…is Rizzo in the locker room?" Mac shook his head 'no' and sniffled again. I'm not a sympathetic crier but seeing Mac break down crying made me start crying again. I ducked back into the closet, followed by Mac, and closed the door.

"Man, this sucks! How could Herb do this? I mean, I've always respected him but I kind of want to kick him in the balls right now." Mac sobbed, his head protected by his arms.

"I know…I sort of want to rip his head off." Now I was even more aware of how pathetic I was. I hope that I didn't look as bad as Mac. Mac started mumbling things to himself and I kind of wanted to pat him on the back or something, try to comfort him somehow but I had never been good at that sort of thing. I was about to reach over and put a hand on his shoulder or something when there was a light knock on the door.

"Hold on a sec!" I said, trying to keep my voice calm and wiping my face off. "Mac, get a hold of yourself!" I whispered, not wanting him to look too much like a pansy.

"OC? What are you doing in there?" Rizzo's concerned voice came through the wood and I immediately threw the door open.

"Rizzo? What are you doing out here?" I looked him over and noticed that he had his sports bag with him, the one he usually left in the locker room. I felt like crying all over again.

"Buzz said he saw Mac go in here. I came to see how he was doing. I didn't think you would be in here, too." Rizzo's confusion turned to concern when he took in my uniform and red face. "Have you been crying?"

"Uh…"

"Never mind, if you were, I don't want to know. It might ruin my view of you." He said, cracking a smile. Ah jeeze, he is cracking a joke at a time like this. Although, his eyes were slightly watery, so he was putting on a brave face for the rest of us. Suddenly, a loud choking sob came from behind me and Rizzo looked over my shoulder.

"Mac?" Rizzo's concerned face melted into a weird look, probably something along the lines of adoration. I wasn't sure and it confused me greatly as to why Mac would incite that emotion from Rizzo. Mac looked up quickly before turning and wiping his face off vigorously.

"H-hey, man! Whats up?" He walked up to stand next to me, sending a small glare in my direction. I raised my eyebrow in response. Rizzo rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Well, I'm glad you two are bonding and all, but I have to go back to the room and pack up my stuff. I just came by to see if you were ready to go Mac but I can see you aren't. I guess I'll just head back on my own." Rizzo said before turning to walk down the hall. Mac jumped quickly and grabbed Rizzo's arm, stopping him.

"Wait! Give me a second! I'll be ready to go in a minute!" Rizzo grinned as Mac sprinted to the locker room. It looked hilarious because he was still wearing most of his gear. I looked at Rizzo as that weird look appeared on his face again.

"Whats up with you two?" I asked bluntly, catching Rizzo's attention immediately. His face went blank and I knew that he was about to BS me.

"What are you talking about?"

"C'mon Rizzo, just save the time and tell me what the hell is going on."

"…Honestly?" he asked, a sudden slump in his shoulders. I nodded and he sighed.

"As of fifteen minutes ago, nothing at all. It could have been something but now that I'm going home, its pretty much out of the question." I got a sort of dreadful feeling in my stomach as I started to peace it together.

"You two?…ya know…really?" I asked in disbelief. Mac I might have figured, but Rizzo? Seriously? Well, that just blew my mind. Rizzo rolled his eyes again.

"Its not like I was planning on liking one of my teammates, let alone another guy. It just sort of happened." He shrugged, as if that explained it all.

"It just sort of happened? That kind of thing doesn't usually just 'sort of happen', ya know? It must have come from somewhere, right? Repressed homosexual tendencies, or something like that." Rizzo snorted.

"I don't have any 'repressed homosexual tendencies'. Before this…whatever the hell it is…I was completely into women and I still am."

"Then…what the hell? Is Mac gay?" Rizzo laughed and shook his head.

"He is the same as me. I guess it was just a weird connection thing that sort of just happened. I don't know, we really didn't sit down and talk about it, just kind of let it flow I guess."

"So, are you guys…together or something?" I was a little flabbergasted by the whole thing, it just seemed so impossible but here it was, happening right in front of me.

"Its one of those 'what could have been' things. We never talked about it, so we never really confessed any feelings but we both knew they were there. We just kind of did what felt natural. We never did anything…intimate" at this point he blushed and I smirked, that was so Rizzo, "it was kind of like communicating with body language, ya know?"

"So you guys sent each other loving looks and blew kisses to each other?" I joked and Rizzo laughed, shaking his head.

"Not even close." We both had a little laugh before I realized that my gear was becoming uncomfortable and itchy.

"Well, I need to get this shit off. I itch." Rizzo grinned and rolled his eyes for probably the hundredth time. I was about to make my escape when Rizzo called out to me.

"You know, I'll see you guys at Lake Placid, right? There is no way I am missing my boys beating Russia." I turned back and Rizzo winked, before walking around a corner whistling. I grinned and shook my head. Leave it to Rizzo to know how to comfort me. I smiled again, when I realized that I could now tease Mac mercilessly about his gay-ness. Things were looking up.


	2. The US lost but played hard?

AN: Hey guys! Here is another installment of my 'What if' series. It kind of just hit me on the way back from my history class because we were talking about Soviet Russia during WW2 and it gave me some inspiration. So, here it is!

Disclaimer: I don't own Miracle, the 1980s US Olympic hockey team, or the Soviet hockey team, or anything else really…I'm a poor college student without a job and this isn't making me any money.

Summary: What if…

The US lost by one point but gave the Soviets the game of their life?

Mac's POV

It has been two hours since the US/Soviet game. Two hours since we lost by one point. We were still in running for a medal but it wouldn't be the gold, it would be silver and that kind of bummed me out. I know we weren't expected to win, we were the underdogs from the very beginning and we had already accomplished more than most thought we could, but it still kind of broke my heart that we lost.

I was sitting in a café a few blocks from the hotel because Herb forbid us to drink while here in Lake Placid, sipping on some kind of herbal tea that I had never heard of. I had just asked for the most popular tea because coffee tastes too bitter. The girl had winked at me and then wrote her number on the back of the napkin along with 'Good game' even though we had lost. I wasn't gonna call her but it kind of made me feel better about myself that America didn't hate us because we just lost the most important, and symbolic, game of our lives. I would probably always look back on this and feel like a failure but it gave me hope that I would one day get over this disparity. So, I smiled at the waitress when she came back around and decided I would give her a nice tip when I left.

"Is this seat taken?" I almost choked on my tea when I heard a rough voice with a heavy Russian accent from beside me. I didn't quite catch what he said, too busy almost choking to death, but I eventually cleared my air ways and looked up to see Vladislav Tretiak, goalie extraordinaire, standing right next to me with a look of mild amusement, at least I hoped that was what it was. His face was blank.

"E-excuse?" My voice came out slightly squeaky and I internally slapped myself. Tretiak still didn't smile but his eyebrow did rise slightly so I counted that as amusement.

"I asked if this seat was taken." He stated and it took me a second to decipher it because of his accent.

"Uh, yeah, I mean no. No one is sitting there." I rambled, berating myself for being so nervous but I couldn't help it. His team had just beaten ours and here he was trying to make small talk. The eyebrow rose higher on his head.

"May I join you?" I wondered why he would want to sit with me; didn't he have a team to celebrate with? Was he here just to gloat about their victory? I shrugged in response and he stood for another second or two with a confused expression on his face before he sat down. The waitress came by again and sent a small glare in the goalie's direction. He stared back at her with a blank face making her uncomfortable.

"I would like what he is having and toast." He said and the waitress asked him to repeat it. I laughed on the inside because the Soviets probably had this problem on a daily basis. It made me feel slightly better. He repeated it, speaking slowly, like he was talking to a child and I let out a small snicker. The waitress looked peeved, but wrote it down none-the-less before turning to me.

"Refill and some banana bread please." She nodded, taking my cup, and left, but not before shooting a glare in Tretiak's direction.

"Don't be surprised if your toast is burnt." I muttered, fiddling with a napkin.

"What?"

"She is probably back their complaining about you right now, the cook will probably burn your toast or something. Don't take it personally." I smirked in his direction and his eyebrow rose even higher. He looked in the waitress' direction.

"Why?" He looked almost confused and I actually laughed.

"Well, your team did just beat the US team in a very close game, Americans despise Soviets because of the Cold War thing, and you just spoke to her like she was a child, people don't usually like being treated like that."

"We are blamed for being good at something, it's not my fault the Cold War is happening, and I only wanted to get some tea and toast."

"Some people are fickle." The waitress came back with our orders. She slammed Tretiak's order on the table before setting mine down before me. The goalie frowned when he noticed the black toast. "So, what brings you to my table? I would think that you would be celebrating with your team."

"Celebrate what? Another victory? We will only celebrate when the gold is ours. This game was not as important to us as it was for your team. It was just another hockey game."

"Well, when you put it that way-"

"It was a very challenging game, I admit. I cannot remember the last time I was taken out of a game because I could not stop the puck. Your team is very good and you made the victory difficult to attain."

"Uh…thanks?" I wasn't sure what he was trying to say, good game? "We worked hard to play with you guys the whole game."

We sat in silence for a minute or two after that. I kept wondering what he really came over here for because telling me 'good game' seemed kind of lame. I couldn't read Tretiak's expression because there wasn't much to read. His face was blank and he was staring out the window sipping his tea. The atmosphere had an awkward familiarity about it that made me remember the time that Rizzo had sat OC and I down to work out OC's frustrations and overcome his grudge against me. I was debating whether to leave or not when Tretiak spoke.

"You will be at the hockey game tomorrow between Sweden and Finland?" I was a bit surprised by the silence being broken and what Tretiak said. I wasn't sure if it was a question or an order but I assumed the first.

"Yeah, probably, have to check out the competition right?" He nodded and took another sip of tea. "Are you?"

"My coach has not given the team a choice. If I do not go, he will probably shoot me." I wondered worriedly if he was joking or not but the small smirk on Tretiak's face assured me that it was a joke.

"I didn't know Russians had a sense of humor." Tretiak's eyebrow cocked and I smirked.

"Russians have a different view of humor."

"Like getting shot?"

"…and blowing things up."

"Can't forget that." The conversations was amusing and it was strange that I was sitting here with a Soviet hockey player, whose team just beat mine, having a light-hearted, joking kind of chat.

"Do you guys laugh when someone breaks a bone?" I was starting to become more comfortable with the situation and it seemed Tretiak was, too.

"Only when it is the result of a foolish act."

"So, Americans and Soviets have something in common then."

"I suppose there has to be one thing we have in common."

"Well, we both love hockey right? There is another thing in common."

"The dislike of burnt toast."

"I'm sure everyone dislikes burnt toast but I'm just throwing that out there."

"I have found that Pizza is very good since being in America."

"Oh yeah? What is your favorite topping?"

"I like Anchovies." I pretty much gagged at this point, causing Tretiak to let out a noise half-way between a snort and shout, causing him to spill some of his tea. This, of course, caused me to start laughing, letting out snorts sporadically.

"That is disgusting!"

"What is so funny?" Tretiak looked genuinely confused by my laughing, so I tried to explain.

"You laughed. It was hilarious!" Tretiak looked indignant at my words.

"I did no such thing." I raised an eyebrow at his declaration.

"Yeah you did. It sounded like a donkey." I started laughing again when Tretiak looked to be almost pouting. "And now you're pouting!"

"At least I do not snort when I laugh." He shot back, effectively shutting me up. His smirk assured me he was only joking but I took mock-offense to it.

"_Well._" I replied, turning my nose away and into the air, like I had seen snobby rich people do on TV. Tretiak made the noise again and I started laughing again, it was just so hard not to. Suddenly, Tretiak whispered something in Russian, probably a curse word from the sound of it and stood up. He looked at something over my shoulder so I turned to see what he was looking at. On the other side of the window we were sitting next to, stood two of Tretiak's teammates and they were staring at the two of us.

"I had better go before they come in here."

"Yeah, good idea, wouldn't want to get shot or anything." I grinned, getting a small smirk in return.

"Good bye."

"Later Tretiak."

I went back to sipping my tea as I watched Tretiak interact with his teammates outside the café. The other two Soviets had blank looks on their faces as Tretiak spoke, occasionally glancing in my direction. They nodded and continued walking down the sidewalk, Tretiak joining them after sending a smirk in my direction. I raised my cup slightly and smirked back.

I started to wonder why Tretiak had sat down in the first place when I noticed a folded piece of paper on the table where he had been sitting. I reached over and grabbed it, glancing around as I unfolded it.

_Rob McClanahan_

_Boris wanted to let you know that your team played very well tonight. Also, he wanted me to relay a message to you to relay to one of your teammates: he would like Mark Johnson to know that he is a very pretty man and a very capable hockey player. He was hoping that Mr. Johnson would be attending the hockey game tomorrow as he would very much like to converse with him. That being said, I too would like to tell you how well your team played. It has been a long time since we have played such a worthy opponent and we would very much like to play against you again in the future. Perhaps a pick-up game? I am sure the boys wouldn't mind staying in the US for a while longer; they have grown quite fond of the pizza here, especially the anchovies. The team would like you to know that you all have our respect. _

_I hope to see you at the game tomorrow and if I do not, I wish you luck in your game. _

_Vladislav Tretiak_

_P.S. Please relay Boris' message as I do not want to get shot._

I started laughing again, this time uncontrollably. I couldn't wait to tell Mark Boris' message because the look on his face would be priceless. The guys were always teasing Mark about his polite nature and lack of 'butch-ness', as Buzz and Bah liked to say. It was sure to cheer the guys up that the Soviets thought so highly of them, as well. That's when I noticed the small piece of paper taped to the back of the letter:

_You have nice eyes_

_-Vladislav_

'Huh, the letter was written in pen but this part is written in pencil…Vladislav Tretiak, you are one strange man…though you do have nice hair.'

I laid some bills on the table to pay for the tea and bread, leaving a small tip because of the toast. 'Some people are just fickle.' As I walked out of the café I realized that I hadn't thought about our defeat for a while.

'I'm gonna go relay Boris' message.' I grinned to myself as I headed back to the hotel.

Well, that'll be all folks! At least until the next inspiring thought hits me. If anyone wants a 'what if' scenario written, please don't hesitate to ask! I enjoy doing things like that! Just let me know the scenario, character(s), and anything else you might think is important. So, thanks for reading and don't forget to review! Peace Y'all!


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